Chapter 9 – Meeting with the devil
"I don't believe you actually convinced me not to tell Harry."
"We've been over that. Here help me with the cloak."
"Wonder how you manage to get into one, when I'm not around. I guess same guy that opens all your pickle jars and gets stuff down from the high selves, helps you out."
"If I'm not back by tomorrow midnight, please start considering that those were your last words to me."
"Nice touch. All dark and gloomy already. You'll definitely blend in."
"He might be over it now he's not teaching dunderheads all day long."
"Ah, the hidden virtues of a fallen angel."
"Oh, snap out of it. If I'm right, I'm offering him a chance to redeem himself. If you're right I'm giving him the chance to score some points for our side to balance those earned for the bad guys. Either way I'll come back home in one unscathed piece."
"For he's a jolly good fellow, for he's a jolly good fellow, for he's a jolly good fellow, which nobody can deny."
Three pops and several lengthy talks with stern immigration wizards later, Hermione Granger managed to land outside St Stephan's Day Care without injury, though she certainly wouldn't have won any awards for form. The place certainly looked much more wrecked than the picture she managed to dig up, so no one could blame her for lack of landing style. Well, a certain someone could, but he didn't seem to be as punctual. At least she had a chance to spot the new heavy Muggle-Repelling charms that altered the already abominable appearance of the building and the surrounding area. There were hardly any passers-by, a faded green bus, couple of cars, and a bicyclist waiting for the traffic light to turn green. Some poor kid at the corner was practically begging him to take one of his flyers.
Well, if I was you I'd rather pick a busier neighbourhood to promote my… whatever it is you are advertising.
As Hermione kept pacing up and down her part of the pavement she rather must have given the impression of a bored stood up young lady 'cause the same lame kid approached her cowardly extending one of his coloured flyers her way.
Last time I checked I was speaking no German, but I'll humour you.
No sooner had she touched it and the letters started reassembling themselves turning into perfectly legible English. Lesson one out of a hundred. Do not take whatever strangers have to offer. It could easily have been a portkey. Third floor, second door on the right.
Oh, that's so bloody great. Now he wants to play hide and seek.
She climbed obediently to the third floor, dutifully counted up to two and entered the… loo. After thoroughly checking every cabinet, searching beneath the soap dispenser and scrutinizing the interior of various dustbins she shamefully took refuge to a simple 'rivelatore segreti' charm. And it was all it took for the bright crimson letters to appear on the massive mirror that covered a whole wall from end to end. Lesson two out of a hundred. Do not make the same mistake twice. There're so many different others to choose from. Why would you trust directions from unverified sources? Fifth floor cafeteria and order a latte with extra milk to go.
OH MY GOD! He's gonna make me wander all around Zurich in a fruitless hidden treasure hunt just to prove he can still boss me about. From afar.
And there she was, on the 5th floor coolly waiting for her coffee without a wrinkle registering on her face. If you were to take a peek on the inside though, you could easily be intimidated by the hell waiting to break loose.
Having no further instructions she just paid for the coffee and exited the room.
Now what? Should I drink this insult to caffeine, or just hang around by the elevator? Is it just a dead end to teach me not to talk to strangers, or follow their instructions? Maybe if I just get back in again and order a nice strong black coffee? Just to settle my nerves? 'Cause right now they pose a serious threat to someone's corporeal status.
Fifteen minutes later, a furiously finger tapping Hermione reacquainted herself with the cashier lady in search of a poisonous non-travesty coffee and a sickly sweet piece of chocolate cake. The revelation hit her as she was passing back the change she had received earlier. There was something written around the edge of her sickle. Snatching the offensive coin and holding it up high in the air she stormed out of the cafeteria leaving a dumbfounded pondering-early-retirement lady on her wake.
Lesson three out of a hundred. Always check your change. They might be stealing you. Alternatively it might be your portkey.
My lesson to you dear Professor: Never underestimate the patience of an ex-student. It might be killing you.
And with a tap on the coin she was gone.
A/N: Oh, you guys, I asked for a boost up and you crowned me queen of the universe! I so adore your reviews. And I thank the rest of you that read but never review. Just less.